


Cabin Fever

by ladyburrito



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: "I've had Enough of your Shit" Rey, ABO, Alpha Ben Solo, Alpha Hermit Ben Solo, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Ben’s shit brown eyes, Can't we all just fuck and get along?, Classic Rock themes, Dumb Shit Ben Solo, F/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Modern AU, Mountain Man Ben Solo, Omega Rey, Omega Verse, Rutting, Snowed In, There Will Be Smut™, Update Chapter!, Vague Snow Country, Wanted Man Ben Solo, attack of the plaid, being little shitheads, good ole forced proximity, hardened cinnamon buns, the Filth is coming, the sex will be great if they don't kill each other first, trust issues for EVERYONE
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-26
Updated: 2019-09-25
Packaged: 2019-09-27 18:24:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,161
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17167025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladyburrito/pseuds/ladyburrito
Summary: Rey is hiking out here for her new job, some stupid bullshit about "centering oneself for the work environment". That was day one. Day two starts lost, cold, and quickly running out of food. Rey is getting desperate to find some shelter. There's gotta be something nearby, right?But she soon discovers the only thing worse than hiking through Alaska alone is getting snowed in with a grumpy, unstable, plaid-wearing Alpha.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I literally could not have done this without my beta, [ArdeaJestin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArdeaJestin), and my ABO buddy in crime, [ohwise1ne](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohwise1ne/pseuds/ohwise1ne). 
> 
> God bless this trash.

_Just a bit further._

The nip in the air stung her lungs with each heaving breath. The burn in her legs made a good enough argument to consider just admitting defeat. But Rey would climb this hill.

She had to.

Finn was looking for her. He was out here somewhere. God knows where.

A snowdrift in the night took their camp. Startled out of their sleep, Rey grabbed her pack just in time to watch Finn disappear over the bank. She scrambled to an abandoned animal den for shelter. By dawn, the snowfields were flat. Rey was alone. With nowhere to go but forward, she gathered her strength once again, and began her search for her best mate.

They found each other in the corner thrift store reaching for the same leather jacket about two years ago; both cold, hungry, and jobless. Finn promised her a position at this remote aerospace engineering company. So remote, they had to hike out here. In the middle of fucking ice country.

She loved Finn a lot. Almost more than stable job opportunities.

She did not love the cold.

Her day-long runny nose said as much. The cleats in her boots were beginning to creak with her steps, her ice picks were now twisted and locked together into a trusty walking stick, and it was definitely taking on most of her weight.

Her silver thermos clinked from her belt-loops, a constant reminder she only had enough water rationed out for another day. In the blinding gray overcast, it’s stupidly hard to discern what time it is, but judging by the ache in her limbs, she was running out of daylight fast. Time to find Finn or refuge. Whichever came first.

Cresting the hill was momentous in and of itself, considering she was working off a third of a day’s food supply. It took Rey another twenty five minutes just to find the goddamn flare gun out of her pack, wrestling to keep her equipment from falling out. She glanced around for a direction that wouldn’t let the fallout set the pines aflame.

 _Although then I’d at least be warm._ She thought bitter-

_Is that a house?_

Just over the tops of the trees, Rey saw the tiniest, most hopeful plume of smoke she’d ever laid eyes on. She caught sight of a big something below that smoke and behind the trees.

If not a house, it was a small building. And that building definitely had someone in it.

She made a mad dash, nearly forgetting her pack.

She’ll be warm tonight.

And tomorrow? Tomorrow, she’ll rescue Finn.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Nearer to the cabin, there’s a rich, earthy smell that only comes from stained wood. It gets stronger the closer she trudges. The owner must be resourceful, capable even, to have a place this far out in snow country. They’ll be able to help her, right?

It’s definitely a home, maybe two floors. Heat radiates from the oak exterior. She notes two foggy windows, then smells of stew almost take her over, stomach gurgling loudly in response.

_Hopefully, I’m not interrupting dinner._

Nervous now, Rey knocks on the door, suddenly realizing her faucet nose, and definitely doesn’t wipe it all on her sleeve. Now presentable, she waits. Bated breath held.

      Could she _be_ any more British?

...Nothing. There is no answer. She spies a well lit fireplace from the front window. There must be someone home tending to it.

She knocks again a bit louder, this time without her gloves. Her knuckles are bright red already and beginning to numb.

After a forty second count of more aggravating silence, her open palm slams on the wood door with more force than necessary, now trying to get feeling back in her fingers.

Then, there are loud, clunking footsteps, and she stills. The door creaks open. Rey feels all the air whoosh out of her.

She stares up at buffalo plaid. Trailing her eyes up is a pale man’s face. She notes a sharp Adam’s apple and a crooked jaw hidden beneath a dark, wiry beard. Plushy lips to be envious of and a bent nose large enough to take up most of his face. Up further are chocolate eyes, a twitching brow, and waved black hair in good need of a trim.

He’s a living giant of a man, and he did not look happy to see her.

His heavy, expectant gaze made her more than a little on edge.

“Hi,” she tries.

Nothing. She is not here for a staring contest.

“I-

“ _What._ ”

“I’m _lost!_ ” She blurts, “I’m lost, and I’m bloody terrified, and I need shelter... _Can_ you help?”

His eyes (now looking more like shit brown the longer he keeps her out here) bear down on her for an uncomfortable silence.

“ _Plea-!_ ”

The wind shifts and gusts harshly from behind her. She shivers violently, the cold coming in straight through her seven layers. Rey sees his nostrils flare and she knows - she _knows_ \- he’s picked up on her scent. He smells Omega.

Why that works isn’t lost on her. She’ll have to be cautious around him. But, he’s finally convinced. The man finally moves to let her in, still without a word.

Her first steps into his warm cabin are surreal, like she’s forgotten what a home feels like, let alone warmth. Rey takes a deep breath in, more out of relief than anything and-

She chokes on the stench of Alpha, his heady pheromones hitting her like a brick wall.

_No... Nonono!_

It wasn’t wood stain- it’s his fucking designation disguised under a strong cedar scent, and it’s _stifling_. The whole house smells like warm pine and Rey can already feel the beginnings of the pull; that spellbinding lull she gets around Alphas.

She can’t stay here. There’s no _way_ she’ll be safe here.

“Follow me,” he calls from the next room over.

Her stomach bottoms out. Faced with a precarious decision, she follows the sound of his voice. He’s her only chance of survival and she’s got the strongest suppressants on the market. She can do this. She assures herself she could take him if she needed to. Her ice picks will have to make sure of that.

It’s a small house for sure. Wood paneling everywhere, like most cabins probably have. The fireplace is off to the right, as she saw through the window. A ratty green couch sits in front of it. To her left are rickety wooden stairs, leading to a closed off loft that is undoubtedly his bedroom. She walks the strip of floor between the couch and stairs. In the corner by the fireplace, there are boxes stacked together and a dusty looking record player sits on top of something dustier. She comes to the back wall. There’s... there’s three axes, a giant saw, a pickaxe...

      Weapons. Her savior lines his walls with _weapons_.

Rey takes a deep breath and keeps moving, slowly getting used to his scent. She turns behind the walled off stairs. She passes a room with brown linoleum floors and spies a sink.

_Bathroom._

Further left is the kitchen, covered head-to-toe in mustard yellow and the ugliest flower power wallpaper, straight out of the 1960s. Nothing in here is in good shape. Notably, the fridge handle ready to fall off, and the stovetop that’s burnt black. There’s a pot on the only good burner; the stew she picked up on outside, most likely.

Then, in the far corner, what Rey maps to be the front of the house, is a small breakfast table. With _one_ wooden chair.

The man stands beside it, huge, and dwarfing everything in the room. Behind him are dirty shovels and rakes against the wall.

      He’s definitely a murderer.

By the time she reaches him, he’s hanging up a corded phone- a fucking landline.

_Who the hell is this guy?_

If possible, he looks even more pissed now. Resigned, he shoves the ancient phone and sighs loudly, “Ranger’s office is closed for the bad weather.”

That’s unacceptable. Rey jerks her head in disbelief, “My hiking partner is still out there! Is there anyone else nearby? For emergencies?”

“I have a guy who comes once a month. The thirtieth.”

“It’s December third.”

“Yeah, no shit.”

She meets his eyes; that weighted, shitty gaze of his offers absolutely nothing. Again.

She looks at him expectantly.

He looks at her expectantly back.

Now it _is_ a staring contest. There are no offers made, no support given. His scent gives nothing away except for being obnoxiously strong. But the implication to leave is clear. He doesn’t want to help? Fine. She throws her hands up with a grunt and turns heel.

“Hey!” He goes to follow her.

_Fuck this guy, I’ll have better luck outside._

“Listen, I don’t wanna be stuck with you any more than you do; I didn’t ask to have fucking company-!”

Rey wheels around on the snobby Alpha, “Oh, well thank _you_ for not letting me freeze to death- in the bloody arctic tundra! Humble of you, really, but I’m starting to think I’ll just take my chances.”

“Wh- Are you fucking nuts?”

Re-tying her laces, “You’ve made a _great_ case for me staying here. I _definitely_ feel safe staying with an Alpha recluse, who lines his fucking walls like an _armory_. You won’t murder me in my sleep at all.”

The change in his scent is immediate, instantly morphing from cedar and balsam into burnt food, or singed hair, or both. He smells like burning, which is angry, but she’s angrier.

She swipes her picks and jabs his puffy chest with her gloved finger on her way out, “Good fucking luck to you.”

Slamming his own door in his face feels way more satisfying than she’d like to admit.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Rey makes it about halfway back up the hill before she begins to regret leaving a warm fucking home out of spite. Her stupid runny nose could not agree more. She thinks of the flare gun in her pack and it registers that she can start camp with it, at the very least.

_Maybe I should set his house aflame-_

And then, two huge arms take her from behind. Rey shrieks and twists about the best she can, away from her assailant.

“Oh hush!”

It’s the Alpha. She would’ve been able to smell him if it wasn’t so bloody cold out.

“You’ll die out here by yourself, you idiot.”

He’s lifted her, and her pack, over his shoulder like she weighs nothing. And there’s not - she refuses to admit - there is NO part of her animal brain that thrills in how strong this Alpha is.

But Rey does not go down without a fight. She throws her weight away from his body, and with him caught off guard, she tumbles to the ground, hard.

She scrambles to stand, “Back off!”

The angry groan he lets out makes her feel like she’s the biggest inconvenience of his life.

He shakes the snow out of his hair, yelling, “I’m not a murderer!”

“Yeah fucking right!”

Rey gets eyes on her ice picks, and makes a jump for them.

“Oh, no you don’t-” he catches her this time, hauling her up and over his other shoulder with _stupid_ ease. She feels the round of his giant muscle moving just beneath her pelvis, and feels her face get red hot.

“I can handle myself!” She barks out.

“Clearly.”

He adjusts his hold, and her muffled voice comes from behind her rump perched high on his shoulder, “Oh, shove off.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

Back in the cabin, he’s plopped her down in front of the fire. He smells good again. Less turbulent now. Less like the room’s on fire, and more like minty relief. Rey rolls her eyes.

_As if he wasn't the one to push me away in the first place._

He helps her pick off her seven layers, without a word. But he doesn’t need them, the silent, arrogant implication that he’s somehow won her over is enough for petulance to boil deep inside. He’s moved her things to the hearth (if you could even call it that) to warm and dry. He might think he’s being helpful, but it feels condescending to her. It doesn’t matter now. She’s stuck with him for tonight. 

She sits quietly in her bright red long-johns, socked feet only a little damp.

“I’m Rey.” It’s a statement.

“Ben.” It’s the most he’s offered all night.

She stares into the fire.

“You’re an arsehole, Ben.”

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> blah blah I’m sorry blah “holidays” blah here’s your fucxinfg chapter <3

“So...”

Rey curls a loose lock behind her ear, “What did you mean when you said ‘bad weather’?”

She breaks the tentative silence, leg restlessly bouncing off the couch cushion.

‘Ben’ has disappeared into the kitchen. 

She calls out to him, “Is it part of your plan to chop me up into little pieces?”

“First off,” he’s hovering above her, handing her a cup of stew, “I’m a lumberjack. That’s why I have all these tools,” then gestures to his back wall, “I’m not a fucking serial killer.” 

Rey huffs, “That’s exactly what a murderer would say.” Her mug of stew is chipped. It smells incredible. 

This Ben looks hard at her. “Why would I feed you then?”

“...T’fatten me up...”

“What, am I supposed to eat you now?”

“I don’t know, maybe you want to try something new?” She can’t meet his eyes, for some reason. Can’t remember the last time she met someone with a voice so deep.

He gives a long pause, and maybe, _maybe_ a corner of his mouth ticks upwards. It’s hard to tell with his beard. The contrast of his dark hair and pale skin is strange to her. Dramatic. 

“...Eat up, Omega. There’s a blizzard coming tomorrow, and you’ll want that extra fat to keep warm.” With that, he and his moody black mop disappear to his loft. 

The coast is clear. 

_Okay, time for an exit plan._

There’s a fire poker next to the hearth. That’ll come in handy. With the sliding windows at the front of the house, she could grab her things and bust out if he tries to jump her too. Not that she expects it but… 

She doesn’t know enough about ‘Ben’ to be comfortable. Rey doesn’t trust that easily. (She doesn’t trust at all, really.) And she especially doesn’t trust this Alpha after the ‘warm welcome’ he gave her. 

She would never encourage snooping- the right of privacy is sacred to her. That said, it wouldn’t hurt to know a _little_ more about Mr. ‘two-words-per-sentence’. Rey spies those dust covered cardboard boxes in the corner, and digs in.

     This is just pens. _Pens._ Fountain fucking pens and... stationary? _What?_

_Next box._

Inside this one, there’s two large photo albums, and a folder filled with some kind of bill stateme-

“Rey.”

She wheels around.  
  
Ben is calling from the top of the stairs, “Get up here already, I made your bed.”

_‘Your bed’??_

She takes deep breaths.

_Okay, okay, no big deal. I’m just going to enter a complete stranger’s bedroom. He’s not the zodiac killer. He’s a lumberjack with a pen collection. He’s just a lumberjack._

The cup of stew sits, lonely and steaming. Rey has never, _ever_ turned down free food. Her stomach gurgles, and she downs it with huge gulps. If he doesn’t murder her, she’s absolutely asking for seconds.

_He’s just a lumberjack with a pen collection, and incredible cooking skills._

As she climbs the stairs, that cedar smell of his gets stronger and stronger. It’s almost _sour_ at this point, but she can’t tell if that’s from her suppressants or if he’s got a growing sense of panic. Maybe a combination of both. 

_Why panic? What is there to panic over?_

Reaching his door, it’s downright oppressive. Rey is unwillingly heaving in his scent with every breath. She finds she’s trying to catch hers, grasping onto the rickety railing when she finally gets a peek inside the door.

His room is.... plain. Thankfully, not the torture chamber her own anxiety had conjured up. A large bed (though large is anything bigger than a twin bed to Rey) sits on an old wooden frame. A faded quilt acts as the comforter, and little rounded knobs top each short, fat post. It looks like the thing is way too old to hold anyone, let alone a literal tree of a man. The floorboards are warped and gaping. Rey’s not even sure if it can hold both of their weight up here. There’s a little bookcase to the right of the bed and a door on the side wall that is probably a closet. The only window in the room is on the opposite wall, on the left side. It brightens everything up, even with the setting sun, and a crisp breeze flows in through the crack.  
  
Then there’s Ben, who is placing a fresh glass of water, clearly for her, on the left bedside table. He’s got a blanket and a change of clothes under his other arm.  
  
He intends to take the couch, which _absolutely_ won’t fit his towering frame.

She wills her Omega heart not to squeeze.

Despite his thoughtfulness, these care-taking gestures, she can’t sleep in his room. What if she’s triggered into heat up here? That window helps cut through his souring smell, but it is not enough. He stands on the other side of the room, even as this scent is slowly suffocating her. Rey needs distance. Maybe she is causing his distress. Maybe there’s a part of her that doesn’t want to put him out either. 

She’s suddenly hyper aware that she’s only dressed in long-johns. She blurts, aiming for polite, “Oh, I uh, thanks... really, but I think I’ll sleep on the couch!”

His demeanor changes. She feels his eyes rove over her. He senses her discomfort. Brow furrowed, he goes to her side, “You’re pale-”

“ _Don’t!_ Don’t touch me-” She flinches away, “Please.”

Ben is quiet. He doesn’t make a sound, just watches her slowly back out and head down the stairs. Her red-socked feet quietly pad on the wood. 

Rey could be fucking nose-blind and still would smell how rejected he feels. But she can’t let him touch her. It’ll be so much worse to feel his skin on hers. His touch would seep into her skin, his scent into her mind, then she’ll be compelled to _soothe_ him. And _care_ for him. And-

_Submit to your Alpha._

She shudders. It would be one thing if he were a Beta. Even another Omega, she wouldn’t trust Ben as far as she could throw him _(like she could even pick him up)_ , but she could at least brush off any hindbrain urges. No, a young female Omega like herself staying with a lone _(strong, capable lumberjack)_ man isolated in the middle of the woods is a recipe for disaster. Make it an Alpha, one who smells as fucking incredible as he does _(like he grew from the earth himself)_ , and it’ll be a miracle if Rey isn’t mated within a few days.

     At least she has an IUD.

Still, they are _compatible_ , down to their biology (that voice in her head won’t let her forget). But, she’d like to think that she is more than her hormones- that she has more control over herself than an Alpha with big arms and pretty lips, despite what he stirs up in her.

Rey has followed these impulsive whims of hers before, always ending, well, _lousy_ was one way to put it. _Disappointing_ was another. 

She is better now. More self-respecting. She has standards to hold herself to, and a new life to start at Rebel Space Tech.

No, it wouldn’t do to lose control like this.

Ben doesn’t emerge until after she’s hit the bottom of the stairs, shutting his bedroom door behind him. With regained composure, he joins her back down on the couch, bringing her water glass to a turned over box.

She’s not sure what to say to him. 

“You’re… you’re sure you want to sleep down here? Heat travels upwards, you know.” He offers her a pillow.

That sour-tinged smell is back.

_Is it really him? Why is he the nervous one?_

Rey nods, guilt making her look away, “Your scent… _(what’s a nice way to say this?)_ it’s um, it’s too strong for me to sleep… in your room.”

She barely gets the words out before he’s disappeared upstairs again.  

_Why am I so good at pissing him off?_

He’s gone for a moment too long. She swears she hears him curse more than a couple times up in that loft. A loud thunk. A louder clatter. When he comes back, he’s got an old knitted blanket in his hands; a loose, thick yarn woven in shades of lavender, violet, and deep plum.

“Try this.” She takes it from him, gently, making sure not to let their fingers brush. “It was my mother’s.” 

Her first sniff and she nearly groans. It’s Alpha, but soft. Her senses are immediately enveloped in fresh cut pears and warm cinnamon pastry. It smells like an autumn fruit tart. It smells like what coming home might feel like.

The change in scent seems to clear her clouded mind, that awful sense of paranoia with it. Gone is that haze to please, to submit to this perfect stranger. She has her wits about her again.

“This is perfect.”

The Alpha gives her a sharp nod. The sour that’s encased him for the last hour releases around him the way her own heart unclenches her anxiety. Her shoulders relax, looking up to him for thanks, but he’s gone, already heading for the stairs.

For all their bickering, for all her fighting, it means more to Rey to see his attempts to be hospitable than a simple ‘sorry’ ever would. She realizes, with a bit of humility, that she could try being a better guest to him- to an Alpha who’s let her into his home.

Before she can think better of it, she speaks. “Ben?”

“Yes?” His answer is immediate.

“Could... do you mind leaving your door open?”

“...I thought I was your biggest threat, Omega.” His voice comes out like a taunt.

“Listen, I know my irrational fear of someone breaking in when I sleep is _irrational_ but-“

 _But,_ she’s not willing to go into how well practiced she is with protecting her belongings when sleeping, or why her few dingey possessions are so precious to her.

“I’ll leave my door open for you.” She can hear the smirk in his voice. He doesn’t know how grateful she is. “I always deadbolt the front door anyways.”

She lies down, his form disappearing over the back of the couch. The soft ‘thank you’ she says is almost too quiet for Ben to hear, but the pause in his clunking steps tells her he caught it.

She pulls the knitted blanket closer. Quietly takes her suppressants and settles in. Wrapped in a comforting scent of spiced pears and the warmth of the fire, Rey falls asleep.

 

* * *

 

 

She wakes with a gasp. 

 

She was dreaming about a floating walkie talkie, and now she is cold to her very  _bones_. 

Rey’s fucking freezing, looking around in the inky darkness of the living room. Then it hits her- the fire is gone, down to fizzling embers. And she has to pee, real bad. 

_Knew that glass of water was a bad idea._

She wraps herself in that purple blanket, and slowly, haphazardly, stumbles her way to the bathroom in the back corner of the house. Flipping on the fluorescent light, she realizes, this is not a bathroom- it’s a mud room where he evidently does his laundry in the rusty sink.

_Fuck._

Another cold shudder runs through her, teeth clattering. This is almost worse than sleeping outside.

She makes it upstairs. Steels herself to knock gently on his open door. But her peek in, and Ben is passed out cold- snoring loudly, and spread eagle, face down on the mattress and otherwise looking dead to the world. 

“Ben.” She nudges his mattress in a huff, “ _Ben!_ ”

It smells like warm pine in here. She’s assaulted by his toasty scent in the split second she’s not thinking about her bladder bursting. That acrid sourness is gone. In its place is something so cozy and aromatic it could lull her back to sleep in seconds. It’s the scent she was hounded by when she first entered his home.

His eyelids finally peel open, brown irises have a heavy glaze when they land on her. He is _radiating_ heat.

“Where is the bloody bathroom?”

All she can get out of him is a barely coherent, “Door.”

_His closet door?_

Turns out, his bedroom closet is actually the only bathroom in the house. And it’s covered head-to-toe in baby pink tiles. As if the kitchen wasn’t bad enough.

This is worse than her dream.

_What the fuck was that walkie talkie?_

When she returns, Ben is upright (kind of) and scrubbing his face with a hand. He looks gruff, mildly rustled. He’s hunched over in a plain tee, cut off at the biceps. She’s definitely _not_ disappointed he sleeps clothed. His arms are, predictably, huge, and she’s trying not to stare.

Rey clears her throat. “So the fire’s out. How d-”

“You let the fire go out?!” _Now_ he’s awake.

“I’m sorry, I was sleeping- was I supposed to put another log on with my fucking mind?” 

He just pinches his brow, muttering something that sounds like _‘This is fucking why’_

“What did you want me to d-” 

The fucking cold from the fucking window sends a violent chill down her spine. She can’t stand this _cold!_

“Move over, I’m sleeping in here.”

“What- _what?_ ” Ben is scrambling to the edge of the bed.

“I don’t really understand it, but I’m not waiting for my feet to freeze off.”

She’s not waiting for her nerves to get the better of her either, as she peels back the covers and perches on the far side of his bed.

Warmth washes over her little socked feet like his stew down her throat. The icy cold melts in her spine as she’s encased in the cozy heat. 

Rey sighs loudly in relief, finally getting feeling back in her toes.

“I think this blanket is acting as a neutralizer,” she murmurs, “I can be in here now.”

She nuzzles into the purple yarn.

_Mm, pears._

Ben just stares at her, fully aware she’s cuddled in a ball that is his mother’s blanket. She’s sure it’s a weird sight.

Rey gives him a hard look. “You keep your hands to yourself.”   

She curls into the sheets, back to him, like a dare. The warmth making her feel invincible. 

It’s late, she’s exhausted, and she doesn’t want to think for another goddamn second.

She doesn’t unwind from her tucked knees until she hears him settle on his side of the mattress.

_Good._

It takes about twenty seconds before she falls back asleep.

 

* * *

 

 

In the early morning, in dusty yellow sunlight, Rey wakes to an unfamiliar room. Memories of the day before trickle back to her as she blinks the sleep from her eyes. She yawns, with outspread legs, arms flung about, and feeling the most rested she’s ever felt in her life. 

The bed is empty, despite her taking up all the extra space. 

It takes a minute to shake the aches out, but her legs hold, and she wobbles over to the open door of the bedroom, still wrapped in the purple blanket. 

Over the banister she sees, the fire is remade. Ben is sleeping on the couch. An arm and a pale leg drape to the floor, looking every bit like he’s on a child-sized sofa. His hair sticks up in every direction. She smiles at the sight.  

Maybe he’s not a murderer after all.

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YOU GUYS. 
> 
> The feedback I’ve gotten from my very first foray into fanfiction is INSANE. You all are so so kind to a newbie like me. I hope y’all get the same (or more!) satisfaction from this chapter that I’ve gotten from your comments. 
> 
> Your support means so much <3
> 
>  
> 
> *Edit:
> 
> Now y'all can come harass me in between updates [here](https://curiouscat.me/ladyburrito) <3


	3. An Update :)

HI.

It’s been……… it’s been too long.

I owe y’all an update.

Not only have I been out of the fandom for months,, I’ve also left my _only_ story hanging for the better half of a year.

I feel SO BAD.

I've seen enough unresolved, unfinished fics fade away into uncertainty, and I refuse to let that be the fate of my own story. 

SO, since I’m The Writer™ this time around, I’ve decided I’ll pull back the curtain. I wanna level with my readers, and really let y’all know what you’re signing up for when you get into one of my fics.

My bouts of inspiration come in cycles; seasons, if you will. I pour myself into whatever creative avenue I’m feeling, and I try my best to tie my projects together until my dumb “muse” moves onto the next. But when I work too hard on inspiration that isn’t there, they become stale. My passion projects quickly turn into the last thing I want to spend my time on.

I definitely had to take a break from Star Wars/Reylo, for both adult-responsibility reasons and creative. That doesn’t mean I’m ready to give up though, I'm super dedicated to my ideas-- especially this one!!

So here’s the good news: My writing inspiration/motivation is coming back. (Like the slowest fucking tortoise you've ever seen.) I have the _entirety_ of Cabin Fever plotted out. The next chapter is just missing something special. I’m currently reworking it, but I won’t pretend like I know when I’ll have it done, and I won’t jinx myself _again_ saying it’ll come out “soon”.

_TDLR ; _

  * I have really bad ADD.
  * _I have the entirety of Cabin Fever plotted out_ (and I'll delete this post when I'm ready with Chapter 3)
  * And lastly, I can’t promise I’ll always finish my stories, but know I will try my damnedest. I won’t publish something that I’m unhappy with, and I know you guys will respect that.



 

While I have y'all here, it is SO cool to have positive feedback on my stuff!! It’s a really new and strange thing for me, after being the silent kudos'er for so long. Please know I’m always thankful for your time spent on my wonderful bullshit. It’s really gratifying to see others enjoying what I enjoy making. For that reason, it’s important to me that I’m transparent with my audience. From now on, I’ll be sure to mark whether or not I’m on hiatus via my twitter!

Here’s two places you can reach me:

  * [twitter](https://twitter.com/ladyburrito56)
  * [curiouscat](https://curiouscat.me/ladyburrito)



 

To further prove my commitment to writing, here are my 12 reylo fics I have plotted out/in the works:

  * Fever 
  * Teacher’s Pet
  * Bang Bang!
  * Luna, Obscura
  * Happy Endings
  * Zenith 
  * Nice For What
  * Bad Santa
  * Sticky Fingers
  * Baby Blue
  * The Kids Are Alright 
  * Musk



 

Plus:

  * Dragon Age: Inquisition - Female Elf Inquisitor/Cullen Rutherford
  * Elder Scrolls: Skyrim - Female Nord Dragonborn/Miraak
  * An original story epic



 

Thanks for sticking around! I have a lot of fun stuff planned for Rey and Ben. :)

 


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